Free Restless Waters by Jessica Speart

time we were through.
    “Just so you know, it sucks meeting you,” Dwayne said in a sulk.
    “And here I thought we were becoming fast friends,” I pleasantly countered. “Do you have any ID to prove you’re who you say you are?”
    He began to reach into his other front pocket, and I quickly latched on to his hand.
    “I’ll do the honors,” I informed him.
    “Sure. Anything to get another squeeze of the family jewels.” He smirked. “You know, I could bring you up on sexual harassment charges.”
    I took a good look at the scraggly kid standing next to me. Not only was he dirty, but Dwayne had enough body odor to knock out an entire courtroom.
    “Trust me. That would be a hard sell,” I said, and pulled out a billfold.
    Inside was a photo ID badge for “Special Agent I. M. Kuhl.” It showed Rasta Boy looking suave as ever, with his braids rolled and pinned to each side of his head like a deranged version of Heidi. Behind the badge was a driver’s license for one Dwayne Brewer. I noted his address. How convenient. Brewer lived next door, in the town of Waialua. Other than that, there was ten dollars in cash in his wallet.
    “Okay. Now what say we have a little chat?”
    “What about?” he asked suspiciously.
    I didn’t respond, but pulled the sack from his hands, turned on my flashlight, and took a peek inside. Whoa! Tonight’s catch was Madagascar geckos, along with the veiled chameleon. These little beauties could fetch up to two thousand bucks apiece on the mainland. Dwayne should have been better dressed with the kind of money he was apparently raking in.
    “About how I’m going to throw your ass in jail,” I responded, placing the bag on the ground.
    Dwayne broke into a hack and spit out a lugie. “That’s total bullshit. I haven’t done anything wrong.”
    “You mean, other than steal people’s wallets and pass yourself off as a federal agent?”
    “Haven’t you heard? Impersonation is the highest form of flattery,” he smarmily retorted.
    Oy veh. The kid was a wiseass on top of everything.
    “That’s just for starters,” I informed him. “The real topper is something that’s going to send you to prison for years. You might have heard of it—a little crime known asinterstate trafficking. I have proof that you’re smuggling illegal reptiles to pet stores on the mainland and, in return, getting big bucks.”
    In this case, I had no problem with stretching the truth.
    “Yeah? So what?” Dwayne responded, sounding totally unfazed. “The way I see it, I’m helping everyone out. The state wants all these alien critters off the island, right? Well, I’m doing my part by catching the little suckers. So what, if I make a few bucks in the bargain? I deserve it for my time and expertise. Besides, do you know what a pain in the ass it is to deal with shipping companies these days? And what do I get in return? A little thanks from anyone for my trouble? No. Instead you threaten to arrest me. Well, you know what? Go ahead. Make my day.”
    Dwayne swung his braids about as though he were the Hawaiian version of Clint Eastwood.
    “I can hardly wait to get into court and give my defense,” he continued, building up a head of steam. “By the time I’m through, you’ll be lucky if you still have a job. The judge will think you’re a certified idiot for having ever bothered me in the first place.”
    The kid was smarter than I’d originally given him credit for—but not smart enough.
    “There’s only one problem with your scenario,” I informed the little weasel.
    “What’s that?” he gloated, looking mighty pleased with himself.
    “You’re also responsible for the illegal importation of reptiles into the state, with the intent of setting up colonies to breed and sell them. That’s a big no-no.”
    “Uh-uh! No way are you pinning that shit on me. My job is just to catch these things,” Dwayne blurted out.
    I silently thanked him for verifying my hunch. I no longer had a doubt